


Late Nights, Bed Time Stories

by Bisexual_Bean



Series: Catch You, Help You Heal [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 3AM SHARP, Abuse is not and never will be ok, And if anyone says other wise I'll see you in the Dennys parking lot, Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Child Abuse, I hate these people with a burning passion, IF I SEE A HINT OF SLASH WE FIGHTING, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Nightmares, No like I REALLY hate these people with a burning passion, Our boys are not ok, Past Child Abuse, Protective Jason Todd, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Deserves Better, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake Whump, Waterboarding, but they are getting there - Freeform, slowly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexual_Bean/pseuds/Bisexual_Bean
Summary: Tim is drowning.He's drowning.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: Catch You, Help You Heal [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904848
Comments: 32
Kudos: 514





	Late Nights, Bed Time Stories

**Author's Note:**

> I don't normally put notes at the beginning but this is a serious trigger warning for anyone with a past history of child abuse of any kind. Please, I would rather you stay safe than read this.

Tim is drowning.

He's drowning.

He's _drowning._

"Tim!"

Water floods his lungs against his permission. The ghost of a palm pressing between his shoulder blades feels like a brand he cant outrun.

"Damnit Tim!"

Hands are on him. Gripping his wrists. Sinking their nails into his skin like they _own_ him. Like he is their _belonging._

He's not.

He's not.

He doesn't belong to anyone anymore.

He doesn't _want_ to belong to anyone anymore.

His fist meets skin. Meets bone. He knows they will punish him for it later, but right now Tim doesn't care because he just wants to breath and they won't let him go, won't let him sit up, won't give his lungs a break no matter how many times he slams his hands against porcelain.

"Stop!" He screams, "Stop stop stop! Leave me alone!"

But they don't. They don't. The one time he wants them to abandon him. Leave him in an echoing building with paintings that watch his every move. With nothing but a cleaning lady that came once every other week for company. 

"I'm sorry." They say and he wants to laugh, but arms are wrapping around him.

And Tim thinks he's suffocating.

His screams, his shouts, they only grow louder till he swears his voice breaks and cracks. Till the water drowning him slides down his throat and doesn't disappear no matter how many times he swallows.

Then the arms vanish. They vanish and Tim's skin tingles where finger tips (Short nails. _Short. Nails._ ) smooth over his wrists before disappearing. He almost sobs at the loss.

"It's ok."

The voice is soft. Quite. Hesitant. Somehow it manages to reach his ears despite the pounding in his chest, in his ears.

"It's ok Tim. Just breath ok?"

No one touches him. No one grips his arms till his pale skin blooms into disgusting colors and drags him down the hall, from group to group, from party to party. Showing him off like a trophy. Like a piece of jewelry.

Tim presses his hands to his thighs. His hands are trembling, struggling to take gasping breath after gasping breath, when someone begins humming close to him. 

It's gentle. Soothing. It's a tune Tim thinks he's heard before, a long long time ago. From a handful of peaceful moments on a handful of different rooftops, a camera in his hand, and a pair of booted feet kicking back and forth over the ledge of a roof while Batman speaks with the police below.

And Tim nearly chokes. Because he knows that voice. Trusts that voice. Focuses on it more than anything else he has ever tried to focus on in his own life. He followed that voice blindly for months. For years. Mourned that voice and cried and cried and cried for it.

Robin.

So he reaches out almost desperately. Because Robin wouldn't let anyone harm him. Wouldn't let anyone lay a single finger on him without his permission. He reaches out, hands trembling, and whimpers when a hand ever so carefully reaches back, starts by pressing their finger tips together, then slowly move to hold his hand. They don't move forward. Don't attempt embrace him. Don't offer any stray touches or caresses.

"You're ok Tim," Robin says and Tim clings to it like a life line. 

They stay like that until Tim's breathing slows, until he can see more than blurred shapes and his thoughts clear. Until his eyes meet teal and Jason smiles despite his own wavering eyes.

"J...Jason..." He whispers, his voice scratchy from screaming.

"Hey kiddo," Jason whispers back, taking his spare hand and resting it against Tim's cheek, thumb gentle against the skin under his eyes.

Tim whimpers and leans into the touch, loosening his grip on Jason's hand "Wha..."

"Nightmare," Jason clarifies for him, "You were screaming."

Tim nods. The clock on his nightstand tells him he hasn't been asleep long, an hour at most, and while he knows that he should feel exhausted, his brain was running a mile a minute, eyes flickering across Jason's face like he could find some hidden secret locked away in Jason's features.

"I dreamt of them," He whispers, and almost melts in relief when Jason only nods.

"I can't..." Tim sniffles, "I don't even remember them ever hugging me...ya know? I...I..." Tim runs his free hand through his hair. Jason's eyes follow the movement before returning to him, "How fucked up is that? They abandoned me, left me to myself for months on end! I-i-"

Jason says nothing.

Tim bites his lip before continuing.

"I failed a test once. J-Just once, just to see how they would react..." He swallows, feels the water against his dry throat and he wants to gag, "I just...I just wanted them to look at me. To pay attention to me. To say something to me so _badly._ "

"Tim..." Jason sends him a look. Lets Tim know he doesn't have to tell him anything, share anything that Tim isn't ready to say. But all Tim can do is shake his head ever so slightly.

"Father was...furious. He screamed and hit me and threatened to beat me with a belt. But Mother..."

A broken sound escaped his lips.

"She dragged me to my bathroom," A pause, his heart beat once again began thumping against his rib cage, " I remember her nails digging into my arm, she filled my bathtub with water, and one by one we went through the questions from the test.

The hand that he had been running through his hair went to his mouth, clasping over it like he could stop the words, struggling to quiet his cries, "For every question I got wrong she would drunk my head under the water and hold me there."

He felt more than saw Jason tense.

Tim's voice was quieter than a whisper, "I kept answering them wrong. Because her hand was against my back, and her nails were digging into my scalp, and it almost felt _nice._ Because mother was touching me. And if I just had to deal with a bit of water it was worth it. To have her hand in my hair? To have a reminder of her existence in the shape of a hand on my arm after they left the very next morning? It was all worth it."

He raises his gaze to Jason. Sees the hint of green swirling around in his teal eyes.

"It was all worth it right?"

Despite the obvious anger, Jason looks heart broken. "Tim..."

"I just wanted to feel something!" He defends, voice rising in pitch, "I just wanted to know how soft her skin was! What her shampoo smelled like! how it felt to be close to her!"

And that's when Jason pulls him forward. Tucks his head under his chin, wraps his arms so tightly around him that Tim struggles to fit his limbs comfortably.

"I'm sorry..." Tim almost wants to cry harder when he hears the words, "I'm so sorry. And I know you don't want an apology, but damnit I'm so fucking sorry," Large hands press flat against his back, "There is nothing wrong with how you acted ok? You didn't do anything wrong. Everything that happened is _their_ fault. Only theirs ok? You are so good and smart and amazing and sweet and they never took the time to notice."

Tim whimpers, curls closer, and Jason buries his nose in his hair, "I care about you so much kid. I wish I could have found you sooner, gave you someone who cared sooner. I'm so sorry Tim."

And he nods. He nods and cries and clings to his big brother so tightly because even though this wasn't the worst thing they've ever done, wasn't the only thing to cause him pain and agony and fear, he doesn't know what else to do.

Eventually they end up laying down, so curled around each other that Tim could barely tell what limbs were his and what limbs were Jason's.

It was in that almost peaceful, if mournful silence, with Tim's cheeks now dry but head still tucked firmly under Jason's chin, that Jason speaks.

"My dad sucked," He whispers, thumb rubbing the space between Tim's shoulder blades, "He drank and gambled and smoked and punched me and my mom around a lot. I couldn't tell you how many times I was dragged to leslies clinic half dead on my feet."

A pause. Tim feels Jason swallow.

"My mom though? She wasn't the best, wasn't even close to it...But God did she try."

Tim fights back the urge to nod, to offer more comfort than that he was already giving, knew Jason just wanted to get the words off his chest.

"Every time my dad left the house, even if she had just finished getting the shit beat out of her, she would take me up to the roof of our shitty apartment building and read to me, or teach me about the stars if the sky was clear, or just hum to me and stroke my hair till I fell asleep and she could carry me back down to our room."

"She sounds nice."

Jason momentarily squeezes him, "She was."

Tim knows there's more to the story. Knows from Bruce's records that Wilson Todd did much more than just beat his wife and child. That Catherine Todd had a heavy drug addiction that she could barely afford and later on over dosed from. That Jason spent three long years on the streets filled to the brim with mysteries not even the great Batman could ever pry from him.

"You are amazing," Tim whispers. Believes it with every inch of his body.

"Yeah?" Tim nods and Jason chuckles, "So are you kid..."

"So are you..."

**Author's Note:**

> First, a big thank you to everyone who supported my last installment to this series! I know it was really short, but so many of you really liked it and to everyone asking if I am ok from my accident I am perfectly fine and already have another car!  
> Second, this story was not suppose to exist. I basically have a time line sorted out for this story of everything that I want to happen, or that I believe needs to happen to, ya know, make it an ok story that makes sense? This was not in the plans at all, and most of it was dragged from my sad time thoughts. But ya know, it's here now, which means I will need to be rewriting a few plans in the works, but everything should still go smoothly.  
> Thirdly, I don't want to hear anyone complaining about how Tim reacts to his parents abuse. As a victim myself (Though not nearly to Tim's extent) it is not up to others to decide how one manages to survive, or act while in the space of their abusers. They don't always make the 'right' choices, but it is not up to others to decide if the victim made a wrong choice. It is always the abusers fault. We do not victim shame here and any comments containing such will be deleted immediately.  
> As always, I hope y'all enjoyed and let me know if I missed anything!


End file.
